


Witches and Crocodiles

by enviropony



Series: Too Old for This Shit [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, High School, Reincarnation, but not like you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/pseuds/enviropony
Summary: Merlin, in all his wisdom and inability to read the proper signs - or the proper want ads - has signed himself up as a student.In high school.He's sixteen hundred years old. He should not have to put up with this shit.





	Witches and Crocodiles

**Author's Note:**

> Many apologies to British readers, as this is not Brit-picked for school-related details. If anyone is interested, I'd love some help!
> 
> First story is gen. It will become Merlin/Arthur later in the series.

Merlin wonders again what the hell he'd been thinking, signing up for this. Last-minute desperation was all well and good, but he could have sold himself as a tutor, a volunteer rugby coach or even the school nurse - an opening had come up just four days ago, due to an unfortunate accident that had, for a change, nothing to do with him or his magic.

But no. Merlin, in all his wisdom and inability to read the proper signs - or the proper want ads - had signed himself up as a student. 

In high school. 

Merlin resists the urge to bang his head against his locker, slams the thing shut instead, and heads for his first class: History.

Fate could hate him more, he thinks, as he sits in the back corner near a window, but it would be hard to guess how. Arthur is in this class, but he's surrounded by sycophants and self-centered little boys. Merlin would rather face the ghost of Uther again than the little bastards he can already hear snickering about a particularly awkward-looking boy near the front. 

He's sixteen hundred years old. He should not have to put up with this shit.

"Settle down!" the teacher demands, and launches into a speech about the proud traditions this new school is developing, and how everyone is expected to keep up a certain standard. Merlin listens with half an ear, eyes focused on the back of Arthur's head. 

It's the first good look he's had at his beloved king, and he has little attention to spare for anything else. 

"Emerson? Emerson? Which one of you is Emerson, then? You there, in the back!"

Merlin jerks out of his contemplation to find the teacher glaring at him. "Er, yessir, Emerson."

"Thank you, Mr Emerson," the man drawls. "So kind of you to answer."

"Oh, anytime, sir," Merlin can't help but snipe back, which earns an appreciative snicker from most of the class. Arthur turns a speculative gaze on him, and Merlin stares back until the young Once and Future King looks away, apparently uncomfortable. 

Well. First impressions could have gone better.

\- - -

Lunch is a bizarre morass of old cliques re-uniting and new ones forming. Merlin hangs back by the wall, observing with a sense of resignation, until one of the teachers on duty chivvies him to a seat. He ends up tearing his sandwich to pieces next to a couple of boys rehashing some television program they'd seen last night, and doesn't catch sight of Arthur until lunch is almost over.

He doesn't understand why it's so hard to find his king now. In Camelot, Merlin had always been able to pinpoint Arthur in a room, even with his eyes closed. Now, his senses seem dulled, as if he's not on the same wavelength as the rest of the world. 

Which, really? Not surprising. Sixteen hundred years is a very long time. Even his magic feels creaky these days.

\- - -

Physical education is first thing after lunch, and Merlin has to wonder what anybody was thinking. He hates running around with a full stomach - not that he's got a full stomach at the moment - and clearly the other students aren't entirely comfortable, either. 

There's a series of physical tests to establish everyone's baseline fitness. They shimmy up ropes, shoot baskets, do push-ups and run a mile - on bloody treadmills! Really? - before being sorted into groups. The students in the best shape end up together, and Merlin finally gets face to face with his charge.

"Emerson, is it?" Arthur asks, looking just a bit lost without his entourage, though only someone who knows him as Merlin does might see it. 

"Yeah, and you're...?" Merlin asks, sticking a hand out, and resisting the urge to pull Arthur into his arms when it's shaken perfunctorily. 

"Arthur Preston," Arthur says. "Mates and I all transferred over from Bollington after that whole scandal with the headmaster. You?"

"My uncle just moved us here this summer," Merlin repeats his cover story. "From Liverpool, and Dover before that."

"You sound a bit of Welsh," Arthur points out.

"Born there," Merlin explains, because it's the truth, really. Ealdor would be in Wales, now-a-day. "Moved around all my life."

"Must be interesting," Arthur says politely, and then they're ordered to sit on some exercise mats and start learning yoga.

"What the bloody hell have I got myself into?" Merlin grumbles, sagging onto his mat.

Arthur snickers. "Welcome to the modern high school, mate."

\- - - 

Merlin drags on home to his flat, and give serious thought to applying for that nurse position. But now, it would be a pain to change his appearance, and he wants Arthur to know him, the real him, on sight. High school it will be, for one more year, and then off to whatever college Arthur gets into. Merlin has no intention of losing his king now that he's found him.

Instead of doing his homework, such as it is after the first day, Merlin sits down and reads the international headlines, and pages through the Economist. Things are sliding inexorably downhill, he thinks, and he can see why Arthur has finally risen. He can even see why Arthur's been reborn instead of just sprung, fully adult, from the Lake of Avalon. It is a wholly different world now, one where old sensibilities will not appeal to the masses - even though old tactics will probably prevail, in the end. 

Merlin's sure Arthur will remember himself eventually, and he means to be there when it happens.

\- - -

"Already slacking off, Emerson?" the history teacher asks the next morning. "All you had to do was write down the topics you most want to cover this year. Was it really so difficult?"

"I forgot," Merlin says with a shrug, unapologetic. He is entirely too tired to play this game.

"Very well," the teacher says, and gestures to the front of the class. "Up here with you. Let's see where we should start today."

Merlin blinks, and slouches to the front of the class. "Am I reciting dates, then?" he asks blandly.

"No, no, something a bit more challenging," the teacher replies. "What's the last topic you studied in history?"

Merlin frowns thoughtfully. "Can't really say. Egypt, maybe?"

The teacher looks mildly surprised, but runs with it. "All right, then. Let's have a recap."

"From when?" Merlin asks. 

"Ah, an insightful, if grammatically atrocious question," the teacher allows. "Start at 0 CE."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "You want us to be here all day?" But he summarizes what he remembers, right on up to the 1950s, when he'd stopped paying attention because Central Europe had become interesting.

By the time he's done, most eyes are glazed, but the teacher is looking suitably impressed. "Well, I see that we can expect great things from you, Mr Emerson," he says, gesturing at Merlin to go sit down.

"I'm not bloody Harry Potter," Merlin mutters, and grins when Arthur gives him an appreciative smirk.

\- - -

Merlin scores a coup in Biology class when, through the subtle use of magic and dour glares, he manages to snag Arthur as his lab partner.

"I hope you know as much about biology as you do about history," Arthur says while they're paging through their lab procedures on cell cultures.

"Not really," Merlin says. "Mostly it's all out of date."

"Lost in your history books?"

"Something like that."

They have a go at setting up the agar plates, and Merlin's skill belies his words. Well, nothing for it. He's been a doctor too many times to pretend he doesn't know how to do this.

"Are you some kind of genius?" Arthur asks, sitting back to watch Merlin work.

"No," Merlin says honestly. "I've just been doing this longer than you."

Arthur laughs, a bright, surprised sound that sends Merlin spinning back to his first days in Camelot. "You're a cheeky bastard, aren't you?"

"Just noticed?" Merlin asks, grinning like a fool.

\- - -

On Friday, just before classes let out, Arthur invites Merlin for a game of footie Saturday morning.

"Er, I really can't play," Merlin says, and this time he's not lying. He can fight, after all these centuries, and do it well, but running after a ball while other people try to trip him up is just a face-plant waiting to happen.

Arthur doesn't believe him, of course, so Merlin shows up at the park the next morning prepared to be humiliated.

He is not at all expecting the sight that greets him.

"Emerson," Arthur says, "meet my sister."

Merlin stares blankly. "Morgana."

Her pupils blow wide in surprise. "Merlin?"

"Oh, this is precious," says a voice to Merlin's left, and he turns to receive his second shock in as many moments.

"Er, Emerson," Arthur says, wrong-footed, "this is Morgan's friend-"

"Naomie," Nimueh cuts in. "We've met."

"What the ever-loving _fuck_ is going on?" Merlin demands, and is only just cognizant of the somewhat large step back that the rest of Arthur's entourage takes at those words.

"Emerson and I will be over here chatting," Nimueh says, gesturing to a bench on the sidelines. "The rest of you have fun." She grabs Morgana by the arm and strides off, imperious, self-assured, and just as beautiful as Merlin remembers. 

Well, fuck.

"Er, ex-girlfriend?" Arthur asks tentatively.

"Something like that," Merlin growls, and stalks after them.

\- - -

"So, how are you enjoying reincarnation?" Nimueh asks, after she's sat a rather dazed Morgana beside her, and gestured for Merlin to take a seat, too.

"Reincarnation?" Merlin echoes, confused. "I've been here all along."

Nimueh stares, and Morgana shrinks back a little. "You what?"

"Have been here all along," Merlin repeats, talking slowly, as to a small child. "What did you think _Emrys_ actually meant?"

"Not this," Nimueh says softly. "Gods, you poor bastard."

"I wish everybody would stop insulting my parentage," Merlin grumbles.

"How long has it been, actually?" Morgana asks, peeking tentatively past Nimueh. "I don't really remember."

Merlin scrutinizes her, but sees none of the madness he remembers. Well, it's been a long time, and he's past carrying grudges against dead people. "About sixteen hundred years." Both women stare at him, awed and slightly fearful, and he has to say, "I'm not going to kill either of you again, so long as you don't hurt Arthur."

Nimueh snorts. "A comfort, indeed. We're meant to be on your side, actually. The goddess fears what is coming."

"What _is_ coming?" Merlin asks, and, "You speak to the goddess?"

"I don't know," Nimueh says, "and no, not any more than I did as a priestess. All I have are feelings; images; the sense that this will test Albion like nothing before."

"Joy," Merlin growls.

"Do you still have magic?" Morgana asks.

Merlin nods. "You two?"

"Yes, we do," she confirms, "but not nearly like before. Spells I did with barely a thought... I'm as a child to what I was back then."

"Likewise," Nimueh says. "I think it's to do with you."

"How?" Merlin asks. "Though my magic doesn't feel all that great either, to be honest." 

Nimueh frowns. "We thought it would be easier once we found you, but if you've been here the whole while..."

"I don't use it much, anymore," Merlin allows. "Maybe that's the problem?"

"Maybe," Nimeuh muses. "We should do some rituals, see what we can call forth."

"Yes, that's always ended well for me," Merlin retorts.

Nimueh waves him off. "It's all of us together now, Merlin. You'll learn to trust us soon enough."

Merlin snorts derisively. Nimueh rolls her eyes. Morgana looks between them, wary.

Well, Merlin thinks. Well.

\- - -

Homework piles on well and truly after that first week, but Merlin can't be arsed to do it. Meeting the witches again has him worried, and yes, maybe in a tiny bit of a panic. He spends most of his free time reading the international news and reviewing his old magic books. He's wary of practicing too much magic, because he gets the feeling that he, Nimueh and Morgana aren't the only ones in Albion with access to the ether. Why else would the goddess be so worried?

Merlins starts reading religious and occult news, too, but if something's in the works, he has yet to see a pattern.

At least he's beginning to get a better feel for Arthur's whereabouts.

"That is creepy! Stop doing it!" Arthur demands, the third time Merlin sneaks up on him in the hall. Arthur's friends snicker, but they look uncomfortable. Only Arthur is at ease with Merlin. The others seem aware that there's a wolf in their midst. 

"Hey, new guy alert!" one of the boys pipes up, nudging another. They all turn to watch a new boy walking down the hall, clearly looking for his locker. 

"Bloody, buggering fuck," Merlin mutters. "When it rains..."

"Don't tell me you know him, too?" Arthur asks.

Merlin watches Mordred shuffle toward them, and says, "Maybe. We'll see in a minute." _Mordred!_ he shouts, and feels a shimmer of satisfaction at the startled jump the Druid boy gives.

"Twitchy," one of Arthur's friends mutters, as Mordred's wary gaze settles on their group. 

"Insane," Merlin retorts. "And where have you been?"

"Er," Mordred says, eyes shifting rapidly between Arthur and Merlin. "Shropshire?"

The boys all give him derisive looks, but Merlin gestures him forward. When Mordred comes, cautious like a chastened dog, Merlin grabs him by the scruff and says, "Introduce yourself."

Okay, so maybe he's holding just a _bit_ of a grudge, still.

"Matthew," Mordred announces, squirming in Merlin's tight grip.

"This is Arthur," Merlin gestures, shaking Mordred a little, "and all the rest." The boys don't seem too concerned that Merlin doesn't know their names. A couple of them are trying to edge out of the group, in fact.

"Nice to meet you," Arthur says tentatively, glancing sideways at Merlin. "So how do you know Marty?"

"Same way I know your sister and her friend," Merlin answers for Mordred. "We all ended on similar terms."

"Um," Mordred says. "You're making a scene." He squirms a bit more.

"That's all right," Merlin says. "After all this time, I'm entitled."

Mordred looks at him like he's gone a bit mad, and Merlin does nothing to dispel the notion. 

"Right," says Arthur, watching all his friends scattering pointedly away. "Shall we go to class?"

\- - -

Sadly, Mordred does not have classes with Merlin and Arthur. Merlin corners him during lunch, though, and asks, "All right, what are you doing here?"

Mordred shrugs. "I don't know. I started to remember things last year." He's recovered his equilibrium, and regards Merlin with that stolid blandness that used to both unnerve and enrage Merlin.

"Morgana and Nimueh are back, as well," Merlin says. "They started to remember sooner than you, it sounds like."

"What about you?" Mordred asks.

"Me?" Merlin grins, feeling - and no doubt looking - a bit feral. "I've been here all along."

Mordred's eyes widen, and he takes a small step backwards. "So when they called you _Emrys_..."

"They weren't kidding," Merlin finishes. 

"Are you going to kill me again?" 

"Not yet," Merlin says. "Maybe not ever. It depends on your purpose."

Mordred regards him cautiously, curiously, and finally declares, "You're going to lead us this time."

"Yes," Merlin agrees. "Yes, I am."

\- - -

Arthur joins the cricket team, which is not what Merlin would have expected, but apparently his father (not Uther, thank the goddess) will not have him 'tumbling about like a ruffian,' so rugby and football are out. Arthur complains that there's not any tumbling in football, but Merlin points out that the way he and his friends play it, he's really not surprised that Daddy said no.

Arthur moves his casual game to Sundays, since the cricket team plays or practices on Saturdays, and Merlin spends the whole of most weekends with the witches and the Druid boy. They mull over the news, prod at their magic, and develop a firm conviction that there is _something else_ out there. 

"We need a Seer," Merlin says one morning.

"I'm a Seer," Morgana reminds him, belligerent, her attitude a world apart from what it had been when they'd first crossed each other all those weeks ago.

"A Seer of destiny, not futures," Merlin corrects, impatient.

"A dragon," Morgana interprets.

"There aren't any," Nimueh points out.

"You're all here," Merlin argues. "Why shouldn't the dragons be?"

"Yes, I just heard a report about a dragon the other day," Mordred chimes in, brightly sarcastic. "They've got it penned in at the zoo."

Merlin glares at him, but something in the words catches his attention. By the time Arthur joins them on their bench, patiently helping Morgana fold up all her magic notes, and even more patiently _not_ mocking her for her 'Wiccan' ways, Merlin's decided: "Let's go to the zoo."

Arthur protests that he wants a shower, first, but his house is in the opposite direction, and Merlin wants to go to the zoo right now. Maybe he's mad, or maybe he's right, but he's not letting any of them off for the day until he knows one way or the other.

\- - -

"Just hatched last week; only egg laid. Zoo puzzled," Morgana reads from the newspaper clipping taped to the glass, and eyes the baby crocodile curiously. "She's very cute."

"It's a crocodile," Arthur protests, "and how do you know it's a she?" Even the zoo keepers don't know yet. One of the adults in the enclosure is acting... oddly. Nobody really wants to go in there with it.

"Her name is Aithusa," Merlin says with certainty, and Arthur looks at him like he's rethinking this whole friendship thing.

The baby crocodile scuttles toward them, and snaps her tiny jaws. 

The big, old male in the back opens his toothy mouth wide, and says, _It's about bloody time, young warlock._

"So," Merlin asks brightly, "who wants to help me steal some crocodiles?"

\- - -

"I can't believe someone stole a crocodile!" One of Arthur's little friends says while they're gathered at Arthur's locker a few days later.

"Two crocodiles!" Merlin says cheerfully, and the boys look between him and Arthur with growing concern.

"Emerson?" one of them begins.

Merlin just grins, while Arthur and Mordred beside him stay carefully silent.

"Oh my god!" one of the boys groans, and the whole group shuffles worriedly. "You didn't?"

Merlin walks off, whistling.

\- - -

 _Have you ever met any magic users from other lands?_ Kilgharrah asks, scratching his head against a rock in the back garden of the new house Merlin had bought last week. The flat just wasn't convenient for hiding a crocodile.

 _Yes, a few,_ Merlin says.

_As powerful as you?_

_Yes, a few,_ Merlin says again.

_Were there any you didn't particularly get on with?_

_One or two,_ Merlin allows.

 _I hope you have means to contact the rest,_ the old dragon says, and snaps his massive jaw in glee.

\- - -

Aithusa rides around in Morgana's purse at uni, most days, but occasionally she goes to school with Merlin. 

"Hall monitor alert!" Mordred hisses one day before lunch, and Merlin scrambles to lower his bag to the ground and shuffle it out of sight. The hall monitors have it in for him. 

Most of the school staff has it in for him. 

"Arthur, bring my bag to class!" Merlin whispers, and strides off to create a distraction. 

Arthur waits until the hall monitor is focused on Merlin before hefting the unusually heavy bag. "It's no wonder they think he's selling drugs," he grumbles at Mordred as they slip away from the scene.

"Don't open it," Mordred warns when they're at the stairs, about to part ways. "Aithusa's in there."

Arthur startles, and drops the bag.

"Oi!" Merlin protests, appearing out of nowhere to grab it before it hits the floor. "Careful!"

"You brought a crocodile to school!" Arthur grabs him and hisses in his ear, wringing his collar so hard that Merlin actually starts to choke. "A stolen crocodile! Are you insane?" He lets go and shoves Merlin away, glaring furiously.

Merlin actually feels rather hurt at the manhandling. "Sorry," he says with his trademark shrug. "I need to talk to her today."

Arthur snarls and spins away, apparently before he decides to say something that will incriminate them all. 

\- - -

When classes let out for the day, Arthur is waiting for Merlin near the bike racks. "You give that thing back, Marty, or we're done!"

Merlin shakes his head, sad and guilty that he's managed to hurt Arthur again with his secrets. "We're never going to be done, Arthur," he says. "Not even if we want to be."

He turns and starts walking back to his house.

Arthur sighs, unchains his bike, and follows.

\- - -

Merlin hobbles from classroom to classroom, getting a perverse satisfaction from hearing all about how bright his nephew Martin is, now if only he could just apply himself, he'll never pass his GCSEs as it is. On his way to the history classroom, someone bumps into him, and he growls his standards epithets, not even looking up. 

"Wait a moment, please," the offender says, and Merlin suffers to stop and give him that moment.

"What?"

"You're not Martin Emerson's uncle, are you?" the man asks cautiously. "One of the teachers pointed you out earlier."

"I am," Merlin affirms, pushing his old watchcap further up his head. "And you are?"

"Thomas Preston, Arthur and Morgana's father," the man says, and puts a hand out. 

Merlin shakes it grudgingly. Preston looks nothing like Uther, but the snobbish, entitled attitude is identical. "A pleasure," he says, and knows it sounds mocking.

"I'd like to speak to you, if you don't mind, about the influence your nephew's had on my children," Preston declares, and launches right in. "Morgana's clearly not focusing on her studies, and Arthur's attitude grows worse each week. He's started missing cricket practice-"

"He prefers football," Merlin interjects.

"-and lies to me about where he and Morgana are on weekends. I stopped by your flat the other day, Mr. Emerson. Despite the fact that my children assured me they were studying with your nephew, there was no one about."

"That's because they were at my house, not my flat," Merlin says with a derisive snort. "Now if you'll excuse me..." he tugs his cap back over his eyes and turns toward the classroom.

"I'm not done!" Preston protests. "I'll be telling my children that I want them to stay away from your nephew. If they show themselves at your home - _wherever_ that may be - you are to send them away. Martin is a bad influence, and I'll not have it anymore!"

"Bah!" Merlin grumbles, and waves irritably in Preston's direction. "Go fall in a hole!"

"I beg your-"

Merlin slams the door to the classroom on Preston's outrage. The history teacher starts, and graces him with a sickly smile. "You must be Emerson's uncle."

"Yes," Merlin huffs as he drops into a chair, "I must be."

\- - -

"My father told me I can't be friends with you anymore," Arthur tells him the next morning.

"And?" Merlin arches his eyebrows expectantly, ignoring the rapid patter of his heart. If Arthur's going to make this difficult... Merlin will stick with him, no matter what, but he's always hated arguing with Arthur when Arthur's set on obeying his father.

Arthur shrugs. "And I suspect I'll get grounded when he finds out I'm ignoring him. Morgana, too. But," he gestures up the hall, and Merlin follows him to history class, "I gather that if you can get a crocodile-"

"Two crocodiles!"

"-out of the zoo unnoticed, you can help us sneak out, too. Also, one crocodile. Aithusa fits in a purse. She doesn't count."

"Picky," Merlin huffs. "There's a condition to this flagrant and willful disobedience, isn't there? I can feel it."

"There is," Arthur agrees. "You're going to tell me what the hell you, my sister and your crazy friends are up to." 

"You're not going to believe us," Merlin warns.

"My sister is a practicing Wiccan and I dumped friends I've known all my life for a boy who steals reptiles," Arthur says. "I'd like to think I'm open to new ideas."

Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway and laughs until the bell rings.

\- - -

The following Monday, there's a new transfer student in history class. Merlin and Arthur are already sitting in the back corner - Arthur's little friends are closer to the front, by the door, and rather happily ignoring them - when the new boy slinks in. 

"New guy!" one of lads calls, and there's a general uptick in the classroom chatter. The teacher confers with the new fellow, and, with a reluctant expression, sends him to sit in the only empty seat - the one in front of Arthur.

"Hello," Arthur says amiably.

"All right?" the new boy greets, and sits down. Then he twists to look at Merlin, and says, "You look familiar." There is a look in his eye that belies his age.

"Do I?" Merlin asks. "Does he?" he nods at Arthur.

"Yes, him too," the new boy agrees.

"Mr Smith, don't get in cahoots with those two!" the teacher warns.

"Who says 'cahoots,' anymore?" Merlin asks rhetorically.

"Emerson!"

"Present!"

"I swear to god, Emerson!"

"I thought this was a secular, school, sir?"

"Enough!"

"Right, sir." Merlin slouches low at his desk, and watches Elyan fidget until the bell rings.

"Don't fall in with the creepers, new guy!" one of Arthur's little friends warns.

"Piss off, Sledgley!" Arthur calls back.

"Is that his name?" Merlin asks, and promptly forgets it again. "Right, what have you got next, Elyan?"

Elyan stares at them. "Merlin?" he asks, tentative.

"Elyan," Merlin says, grinning.

"Arthur?" Elyan asks.

"Sorry," Arthur says, "I've no idea who you are, but Martin Emerson's Crazy Friends' Society meets every weekend. Bring your own reptile."

Elyan's eyes shift worriedly between Arthur and Merlin. "Er, is he okay?" he asks Merlin.

"Not yet," Merlin says, "but he will be."

\- - -

Elyan, for some reason, remembers everything, despite not having an ounce of magic to his name. His sister does not.

That's fortunate, Merlin thinks, because she and Arthur are smitten with one another when they meet at lunch. It will make things far less awkward.

"So, Mordred's here, too?" Elyan asks as they sit down in the corner of the lunch hall. 

"Yes, somewhere," Merlin says. _MORDRED!_

Across the hall, someone drops their tray with a wicked crash.

Merlin smirks. "That's him."

Elyan eyes him worriedly. Arthur and Gwen are too busy making adorably awkward small-talk to notice. 

"I hate you, Emrys," Mordred says, stalking up to the table, empty-handed. The bottoms of his trousers are spattered with food.

"I hate you, too, Mordred," Merlin assures. "But look, here's Elyan! And Gwen!"

Mordred appraises Elyan cautiously, and spares a few moments to watch Arthur and Gwen flirt. He sits across from Merlin, and stares expectantly.

"Good to see you, Mordred," Elyan says cautiously. "Odd place for it."

"He killed Arthur," Merlin says, despite himself.

Elyan's face contorts in confusion. Mordred flinches like he's been slapped.

"Who killed what?" Arthur says, pulled back into the world by the sound of his name.

"I did," Mordred agrees coolly. "I could list all _your_ crimes, Emrys, if you like."

"What crimes?" Gwen asks, finally realizing that her brother has maybe not chosen the best group of people to befriend.

"Why do you call him Emrys?" Elyan asks.

Merlin raises an eyebrow at Mordred, and tucks into his soup.

Mordred steals his bread. "Much came to pass after your death, Elyan. Much more was already in play before it." He stuffs a crust into his mouth and chews steadily.

"What the hell are you all on about?" Gwen demands. "If this is a joke, it's not funny."

"It's not a joke," Arthur says. "I have no idea what it is, but it's far too big to be a joke."

"Merlin?" Elyan prods. "What the hell?"

"Later," Merlin says, and works diligently on his soup.

\- - -

They meet up that night, all snuck away through skill or luck or magic, in Merlin's house. Gwen gives a startled shriek when the stuffed crocodiles in the room turn out to be real. Morgana gives a shriek when she sees Gwen, and almost runs away up the stairs. Elyan pushes Gwen behind him, and glares viciously at the witch. Everyone looks around warily, or wearily, and all eyes eventually settle on Merlin.

"What the hell is going on, Marty?" Arthur finally asks.

Merlin gazes back at them all - some who remember, some who don't; some who have magic, and some who died fearing it - and hears sixteen hundred years echoing in the chasm between him and them.

"I am," he says, as he collapses into a chair, "so tired."

They stare at him, bewildered and uncomprehending, until at last he straightens, and begins: "In a land of myth, and a time of magic..."

**Author's Note:**

> I am [notlikeyoupeople](https://notlikeyoupeople.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, currently obsessed with Black Sails, with frequent forays into current events, sailing, writing, fandom, horses, LGBT+ rights and somewhat unashamed SJWism.


End file.
